


The Captain of the Kingsguard

by RinzlersGhost



Series: #BonjourContentChallenge [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bullying, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Siren Reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinzlersGhost/pseuds/RinzlersGhost
Summary: You're a siren who fought in the Battle of Erebor. You happened to find camaraderie in an ellon from Eryn Galen in the middle of the battle. When your paths cross more than once, more than twice, you take advantage of a moment of reprieve and spend it in each other's arms. Now that battle is long past, and you're actively looking for the one who has stolen your heart.Chapter 3 was created by Day 2 Prompt: Domestic Bliss
Relationships: Feren (Hobbit Movies)/Reader
Series: #BonjourContentChallenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168115
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aran/aran-nin - King/My King  
> Hiril - Lady

Your fingers absentmindedly flew as you wove together the mail armor. Those who knew you knew better than to ask why you were doing it. The Battle of Erebor was long past, but still a fresh memory in the minds of all your people who had fought in it. You weren’t the only one of your kind, but your numbers had dwindled in the war and in the fires of Esgaroth in the wake of the dragon Smaug.

Many people of Dale called you their champion hero. You didn’t quite agree with it; you were a native of the Long Lake yourself and the town that had long inhabited it. It was just when the dragon had come, you had helped rescue many, although honestly there were a few you would have preferred to let drown. Eidr was probably the most a-thorn-in-your-side as a person gets. He constantly had a remark to make on your weight, as if you had any choice to be born the way you were. No amount of eating less food or training harder had ever dropped the weight from your frame. Nevertheless, his comments persisted and then they spread, so you had taken refuge under Bard’s wings as he had given you the option a long time ago. That, however, never stopped Eidr and the others from visiting your shop, despite barring them a long time ago.

“What are you doing?”

“Get out, Eidr.” You replied, never looking up from your work. It was snatched from your hands. 

He held up the mail, examining it carefully. “It’s a little small for you, don’t you think?” He asked mockingly. “A gift for a suitor? No, what man in his right mind would dare ask you for your hand.” Eidr laughed, tossing it to the ground. His boot started to come down on it, and you were at his throat, blade drawn and leg clutched in your hand, squeezing like a vice until he yelped.

“My trade for this piece is with Eryn Galen. Would you like to tell King Bard that you are the cause of that loss?” You asked, pressing the blade tautly to his skin. “I warned you once, Eidr. Get out or get gutted.” You replied, tossing him back. He scrambled for the door, closing it so hard the whole shop shuddered in his wake. You picked up the mail, dusting it off. It was impossibly sturdy, made from dragon scale and dragon skin and it was nearly finished. It wasn’t a lie to say that it belonged to someone in Eryn Galen; it was just that the person you made it for never asked for it. It was a gift.

When the end of the day came, you retreated back to the King’s home. He was gracious enough to give you quarters among his own children, and it was late when you came in, trying not to make noise among them. They were respectable people, always quick to defend you against others.

“You’re up late.” You presented your work to Bard.

“What do you think?”

“I think whoever gets it will be a lucky man.” Bard remarked. “You have a gift, Y/N. To think that you taught yourself out of a book, astonishes me.” Well, there was some truth to that. The other half of truth was that you had pilfered mail from dead soldiers at the Battle of Erebor as to learn why it was better made than the other mail you had seen. You had also built cairns across the battlefield with the rest of your people, as was the Elvish tradition, for their King had left them to die alone, and you thought maybe, just maybe, they deserved a little more respect than that.

“Do you mind if I sit in on your trade route to the Greenwood tomorrow?” You asked.

“You are always welcome to join me.” Bard murmured. “But I’ll be leaving early, so you might want to get some sleep.” You nodded your thanks to him and carefully placed the finished mail among the gifts that you had made and built, tucking in for the night. He returned to his own quarters. He admired you truthfully; you had built a name in trade among the three realms, but kept yourself out of it. Most of the time you sent him or Bain to negotiate the trades in Eryn Galen, although you had recently established trade with Erebor personally. He wasn’t sure how you had managed to charm the stubborn dwarf Thorin into trade, but you had and Dale was better for it.

The next morning came far too early for you, but you were up anyways, dressing in your warmest travel clothes and packing your bag, layering your finest dress and cloak among your trade items, disguising a velvet pouch among your animal pelts. You found that most elves who weren’t hunters or warriors could not stand the thought of butchering animals, but were more than willing to buy the products off of you. You met Bard at the docks, stepping onto the ship as he was throwing off the ropes, adjusting the sails to catch wind across the lake with him.

“Cutting it close.” He murmured.

“Making sure I had everything I needed.” You replied. There used to be a time where you had endlessly chatted with him about anything and everything under the sun, but after the war, you had been quiet, far more reserved than he had ever seen you.

“You’re quiet.” Bard murmured, seeing the docks of Eryn Galen in the distance.

“I have business with the Elvenking.” You finally murmured. The shock that hung between you was nearly palpable. He had nothing more to say to you, only surprise in his expression as he was helped into the port by elves. It had turned into less of docks and more of an actual trading center in the wake of the war. You slipped aside and into a private bathhouse, changing into your dress and cloak and smoothing your hair back. There was nothing provocative about your clothing, although your curves made you rather voluptuous, something you were secretly proud of, because it had definitely caught the attention of some of the dwarves and had accelerated your agreement of trade between Erebor. But you weren’t going to be vain about the attention of dwarves in this realm. You hoisted your bag back to your shoulders, giving pay to the elleth who ran the bathhouse and slipping back out. It wasn’t hard to catch the attention of the port. The white mithril circlet wasn’t something you chose to wear often, but it stood out strikingly against your hair. It brought all eyes to you.

“I’d like to request an audience with the Elvenking. Surely one of you knows or can take me to him.” It wasn’t long that Kingsguards found you, and you recognized the insignia tailored on their clothes. 

“Lady...?”

“Y/N.” You supplied.

“Lady Y/N, you can follow us.” You followed them across the paths in silence.

“What business have you with the King?”

“I believe that would be telling.” You replied. They weren’t Kingsguards you recognized; two elleths you weren’t familiar with. 

“And what do you suppose we are to tell him when he asks for a reason?”

“I wish to do trade with him. Directly.” You added before they could ask more. You were led throughout the forest paths, through the courtyard of the Houses and many recognized you but said nothing, you assumed, given the company you were in. They led you into the castle and across the great winding paths. You were stopped by guards, gesturing to your bag and the weapon belted on your hip. “I am a simple merchant.” You let your voice lilt lightly. “My bag is full of items to trade-- animal pelts and my own traveling clothing, and I doubt the knife on my hip would be allowed to do any damage, but if you insist...” You took the weapon’s belt from your waist, handing it to the guards, who seemed bewildered. They went first and you heard the sound of it being removed from its sheath.

“Why does a simple merchant carry a knife made from the black iron that pierces dragon hearts?”

“The black iron does not rust in water, _aran-nin_.” You replied.

“Let her approach.” You heard him order, and the Kingsguards parted to let you through. Thranduil was as beautiful as the stories had ever told, but you knew he was definitely dangerous before the beautiful facade. You dropped into curtsy, meeting eyes with him. “Why does a simple merchant ask for an audience with the Elvenking?”

“You have something I desire, _aran-nin_.” You replied softly. “I wish to make a trade for it.”

“And what do you have that I would value? Animal pelts? As if I am some commoner who needs them?”

“Your people do desire them, yes, and I’m more than willing to butcher animals and skin them so they don’t have to, for to me, it is nothing more than a way of life. But for you, _aran-nin_? I think you will find what I have for you worth your time.” You replied, setting your bag down. You unpacked the animal pelts and your hand closed around the velvet bag, pulling it out.

When you pulled a handful of its contents from it, Thranduil actually stood, shock reflecting in his behavior. “Where did you get that?” He asked, his voice low. For in your hands were white gems of glittering starlight.

“What can I say, my king? I know how to make a trade.” You replied.

“This is a trick.” Thranduil growled.

“It is no trick, my king.” You replied, dropping your charm. “Thorin Oakenshield is an impossible dwarf in an impossible, impenetrable mountain.”

“You must have charmed him.”

“So what if I did? Although I simply brought him something he wanted, so what if I did, _Aran_ Thranduil? You obviously had no luck in getting what you most desired before the war. I bring it to you now in offering, in trade for something you have.”

“What do you want from me?” Thranduil asked. How did you put it? You weren’t about to tell him that you wanted one of his Kingsguard. “Well?” That your only memories of the one you wanted were fleeting moments of helping the people of Esgaroth flee to Dale, snippets of time on a battlefield, your backs pressed to each other, a sword in his hand and a bow in yours, a sparse entirely too short minute of an adrenaline and fear fueled kiss pressed between the walls of the ruins of Dale, and a quiet shared moment of respect and mourning between two warriors who knew the right thing to do for fallen soldiers was to honor the dead. “What do you want?” Thranduil asked again, his temper short. You were between him and something that belonged to him, and now you were refusing to answer.

“I want one of your Kingsguard.” You had no choice. Thranduil gestured behind you.

“You have your pick. You can take Mercistiel or Idril.” 

“With all due respect, _aran-nin_ , I am looking for someone in particular. And I don’t see him here. If you want your gems, you will...”

“Line my Kingsguard up so that you can find the one you’re looking for? Do you not have a name?”

“I do not, _aran-nin_. We were but two warriors on a battlefield at Erebor.”

“Then you will stay at court, because all other Kingsguards are on patrol, and I’m not pulling them back on a whim.”

“As is within your right to do so.” He had expected more resistance from you, but you did not argue the point. “You have a realm to protect. I would expect that he takes his duty to you very seriously.” For a brief second, Thranduil tried to think about who would be so loyal to him. All Kingsguards took their duty seriously.

“And I’m not going to trade a Kingsguard for gems.” Thranduil remarked.

“I am not trying to buy him, like a slave to be traded.” You admitted honestly. “I just want time. You may have the gems, have the necklace. I know what it’s worth to you and I never intended to withhold from you. But I must know; how much of his time will it buy me?” You asked, pouring the gems back into the pouch and approaching the throne to hand it to him. Thranduil could scarcely believe that it was real, but his eyes did not deceive him. You had really gone toe to toe with the King Under the Mountain for this? To buy the time of an ellon whose name wasn’t even known to you? There wasn’t a number to be put on this gift.

“What is your name?” Thranduil finally asked.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“My Kingsguards are not people to be traded, but you have bought his freedom... if he wants it.”

“That’s very gracious of you, my king.” You murmured, a little shocked. “But if I am being honest, I do not think he will take it.”

“We shall see.” Thranduil replied. “Give _Hiril_ Y/N guest quarters. From this day on, she sits among our court and has a home in Eryn Galen, for she has brought to me the Queen’s gems.” You curtsied to him again, picking up your weapon’s belt and following the guards to private quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aran-nin - My King  
> Le bainon - You are so beautiful  
> Iesten - Please  
> Hest - Captain  
> Ego - Get out  
> Dol gin lost - Your head is empty  
> Meleth-nin - My love

A year was a long time to be at court for someone who had never been at a court before. You were on edge, to say the least, but tried not to show it. Thranduil was being very gracious to you, but you missed the comforts of Dale. At least there when people were petty, they were petty to your face. Here, mostly the elleths had things to say about you and you knew some Elvish, enough to get by in conversation and few inappropriate things that you would never let the king hear come out of your mouth. You occasionally heard the term “cow” being used in reference to you, though nothing ever when you were within range of the king. And the common elves, the Silvan elves were always receptive to you. You had run out of things to trade a long time ago, but with your coin, had bought some custom robes and tunics from Elvish tailors, though you also heard the remark about your weight there too.

“Does it not bother you?” Thranduil came out of the dressing room next to yours, and the tailor taking your measurements went white with fear. “Does it not bother you, what they say about you?” He asked.

“It’s the way I am built, my king.” You replied. “But at least the people of Dale have the courage to say it to my face. I never knew elves could be so petty.” You remarked. “I also think that they’re mistaken.” You admired the shapely fitting boots in the mirror, pleased that despite the remarks that they had still built something flattering to you, the greens of the tunic and robes managing to make you somewhat pass as a member of the court. “You must know: I have strength in ways you would not think I possess. At least your elves know where to keep their hands.” You let your voice drop. “I would hate for any of them to lose them.” Thranduil actually snorted.

“Patrols should be coming in soon. I want something nice for Lady Y/N.” In the exact same breath, he was turning and talking to you. “We’ll host a dinner. It will be good to have them home.”

“I suspect they will be glad to be home.” You replied. “But I need no gifts, my king. I doubt he would recognize me in a dress.”

“We shall see.” That was Thranduil’s way of not taking no for an answer, you had learned. So when the night of the dinner came around and you saw the dress, you were nervous. Would it be an insult not to wear it? Probably? Had the tailor been spited by the king’s protection of you? Also most likely. The servant helping you into the dress wasn’t able to hold back her laughter and your temper finally showed itself. You weren’t one to advocate violence, but you had enough at this point and between the absolute thunder of a roar that left your mouth and the sound of your hand striking flesh, you had sent the poor elleth screaming bloody murder from your chambers holding a reddened cheek and ugly crying in pain.

“Bitch.” You muttered, slipping into your own dress that you had made, tearing off the thin and flimsy fabrics that were far too tight against your figure. When you finally made it into the dinner, you noted Thranduil’s displeased expression but put it out of your mind, sitting down to focus on the meal. There were several Sindar nobles and Silvan House Masters at this table and you both knew he wouldn’t cause a ruckus. The Kingsguards sat by their units, and you sat among Idril’s unit. You had found her fiery and a fierce companion, but she was not the one you were looking for.

Your heart sank when your eyes landed on him, his face impassive, neutral. He was sitting at Thranduil’s right side, a direct liaison to the king.  _ Fuck _ , you thought. If where he sat was any indication of his rank, that made him not just the captain of his unit, but the captain of the Kingsguard, the king’s confidant, and you sank into your seat, keeping your eyes on your meal. There was chatter and you pasted on a polite smile, not daring to look again. That was, until your name was mentioned in conversation.

“I had hoped that Lady Y/N would be showing off the finest work of our tailors tonight.” Thranduil remarked. You blinked. Yes, elves were petty you decided. You took a sip of the wine in front of you as all eyes turned to you.

“Yes, I had hoped that as well, _aran-nin_ , for they seem to have no problem clothing you, and it would be nothing less than an honor to accept such a gift from the King. Unfortunately I see no reason to wear something from the same people who called me a pregnant cow and made a dress that made me look like a pregnant cow.” You heard the tailor splutter in indignation.

“You slapped my daughter!” He snapped.

“I have been nothing but kind in the wake of your insults and the vitriol your people have spat at me!” You stood, slamming your hands down on the table, shaking it with the force. “You made me something worse than anything a human has ever put me in! As if I would what? Wear it anyways and become the laughingstock of this court?! I would rather risk the King’s anger! All because of what? I’m fat? At least I won’t freeze when winter comes!” You snarled, sitting back down. Silence descended on the court, everyone in shock, Thranduil included. He had never imagined that his people would be so unkind to you. You didn’t dare look up until the meal was finished and everyone dispersed for the singing and dancing. You excused yourself quietly, slipping away from the dinner and the rest of the party. You weren’t exactly hungry anymore and you found yourself in a private alcove overlooking the Woodland Realm.

“ _ Le bainon, Y/N. _ You are no less beautiful than the day I met you.” 

“I want to go home. I want to bury myself in the waters of the Long Lake and never come back up.” Your voice quivered.

“Why did you come here?” He finally asked. “I assume my King would not have put you in his court if you weren’t important to him.”

“I came to see you.”

“Me?” You finally turned to face him, leaning back on the railing.

“As if I would ever be able to get you off my mind.” You admitted. “We shared something on that battlefield. Was it real?” He stepped from the shadows, coming into the moonlight, coming to your side. “Was it real?” You asked again, unsure. He stepped in close to you, his hand hesitantly cupping your cheek.

“Of course it was real.” He murmured. “I’m sorry, that you’ve faced the pettiness of my kind, that you’ve been put on the spot and your hand forced. But Y/N, they don’t see what I do. They weren’t there. So to hell with them.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes darting down to your lips and back up, as if asking permission.

“ _Iesten_.” You replied. His breath ghosted your lips for a moment, giving you a chaste kiss, barely touching against you. You weren’t sure if he’d abandoned all Elvish customs on the battlefield, but this was nothing like the kiss he had given you before. Before you knew what was happening, you were in his arms, one arm wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against him, his other hand wrapped firmly around the back of your thigh, and he was kissing you so desperately, hungrily, needily. You could hear the Elvish he whispered in between heated kisses, the soft little growls and moans that rumbled across his chest. Glass shattered across the floor from the Sindar noble, the tailor, who stood in shock at the sight. You heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed and looked down to see that he’d let go of your thigh to have his sword at his side.

“Leave us.” He ordered.

“ _H-h-hest_ F-f-feren.” The tailor stuttered out. Feren. You tasted his name softly. Feren turned his head to the side, a growl on his lips, a glare that could have killed in his expression.

“I said leave!” Feren snarled, fingers tightening on his sword. “ _Ego! Dôl gín lost!_ Or are you too stupid to recognize that this is a private moment?” When the tailor still stood in shock, Feren let go of you to advance, his sword raised, and at that point, the tailor actually screamed and vanished through the curtains that separated the alcove from the rest of the castle. “Mm.” The expression on his face was most definitely pride, a little bit of irritation, but pride above all else.

“Feren.” You repeated his name as he turned, sheathing his sword.

“I don’t know what his intent was, but I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.” Feren murmured, coming back to your side. 

“He wouldn’t have gotten far.” You replied, making a show of the dagger sheathed against your boot. He chuckled softly.

“I believe I was robbed of a moment more; that is, if you don’t mind.” You seized the collar of his robes, pulling him close and stepping into him, locking your hands together around the back of his neck and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again. His hands went straight to your hips, fingers digging in deliciously. If you had been wearing anything other than a dress, you would have been trying to lock your legs around him and you swore that he sensed it, a soft laugh leaving his lips when he finally pulled away, breathless. “I tried to look for you. I didn’t think very many people wielded longbows in that battle, but... it was like you vanished. You and all your people that helped put our warriors to rest, where did you go?”

“Back to the lake.”

“To Esgaroth?” He asked.

“No, Feren, we... mm...” That was a delicate topic. You had hinted around it, but never actually said anything about it. 

“It’s alright.” He whispered. “I’m here for you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek softly, studying you.

“I’m a siren, Feren.” You finally replied. “My people live in the Lake. We went back to the lake, to bury our dead. I hope this won’t make you think of me any differently.” He shook his head.

“I’ve heard about your kind, but I thought they were just stories.”

“No.” You breathed, fingers tentatively tracing across his cheek, down his jaw. “I stayed with Bard and the people of Dale after the war. By the time I reached the surface again, you and your people were gone. I stayed on the surface, hoping that if nothing else, perhaps trade with Eryn Galen would bring our paths together again. When that didn’t work, I knew I had to find a way to see you again.”

“You. You’re the reason my King debriefed all male members of the Kingsguard before dinner.” Feren realized.

“Mmm.” You let your fingers linger on a scar across his cheek. You could still taste the blood on his lips when he’d kissed you the first time. “I want time with you, Feren. But you’re the captain, aren’t you? Of the Kingsguard?”

“I am.” He replied.

“So what hope do I have?” You asked.

“If my King denies me my heart, I will leave his service and Eryn Galen.” Feren replied seriously. “I may never be welcomed back, but that is a risk I would take. You are my One.” He whispered. “My only regret is not having the courage to tell you sooner.” He murmured, kissing you again. This kiss was different, not chaste but not needy either. Intimate, you thought it might be called, your mouths melding together. His tongue ran across your lower lip, begging. When you tasted each other, you felt his breath hitch in a gasp, heat flooding into his cheeks. 

“Feren.” You murmured. He tasted of a strong honey mead and you were lost to him and his touch.

“Feren.” The voice that sounded wasn’t your own. “Why did you threaten...” Damn Thranduil. When Feren turned to greet his King, you took advantage of his lack of attention. In one swift movement, you pressed your fingers into the back of Feren’s thighs, lifting him so that he had little other choice than to yelp and wrap his legs around you, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“He is mine now.” You said, matter of factly. “Back off.”

“Bold.” Thranduil remarked.

“You owe it to me.” You stated, eyes flashing.

“Fine. If you wish to be released from your duty to this throne, you may have it, Feren.”

“ _Aran-nin_?” Feren asked.

“Alternatively, you may have a year as is custom to Elvish courting and make your decision at the end of that year.” Thranduil replied. “I assume you two are to be courting?” Feren glanced down to you as if asking silently.

“Yes.” You murmured.

“Then I will give you my answer at the end of a year’s time.” Feren replied. Thranduil vanished through the curtains and you finally let Feren down, although not quite off the hook, pressing him to the railing with one hand still gripping his thigh. “ _Meleth-nin_.” He whispered, watching your free hand unbutton the top of his robes, exposing pale skin beneath. “ _Meleth-nin_!” His cry was not in the least bit silent when your lips touched against his neck, your tongue leaving his flesh glistening beneath the moonlight as he panted for air, your gaze on him entirely predatory. Osse only knew how much you wanted him, but you let him down, giving him time to compose himself, pressing your forehead to his.

“Court me?” You asked, chuckling softly.

“Yes.” Feren breathed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meleth-nin - My love  
> Le melin - I love you

You heard your husband come in late, likely tired from days spent on patrol. You had to give him credit for trying to be quiet, but you had become attuned to his movement. It was late, but you had come to expect his patrols to come in late. It was only when he shuffled to the doorway of your bedroom that you realized that he was exhausted, shoulders slumped and head hanging, bowed to his chest. 

“Feren?” You asked quietly, crossing the room to place your hand against his cheek. “ _Meleth-nin_ , what is wrong?” You murmured. He placed his hand over your own, holding it to his cheek.

“I am so tired.” He admitted. “Can you...” He didn’t even need to finish. Your hands knew the way around his armor even in the dark, and the pieces slid to the floor. You helped pull the Elven mail over his shoulders and he collapsed face down in the bed.

“Tell me you don’t have to go out tomorrow.” You whispered.

“I don’t have to go out for a month.” He muttered, almost immediately dropping into sleep. Bless the Lord of the Valley, you thought, hanging up the mail and polishing the pieces of armor before putting them away as well. You joined him in bed, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. Feren slept through the night, through the morning, and through the rest of the day too. In fact, he didn’t wake until the second morning, stiff and sore. His eyes landed on you, working at your desk.

“You should have woken me up.”

“No.” You replied. “I spoke with Lord Elrond. He said it was best to let you wake on your own. He said the patrol was bloody and that you came in with fewer warriors than you went out with.”

“We were outnumbered. Truthfully, Y/N, I don’t know how much longer I can live like this.” Feren murmured, rolling to his side with a grimace. “I thought after Erebor, I could still lead the patrols. But I couldn’t, and that’s why I was gone so long, on message from my King to the Steward of Gondor. Now I’m here and soldiers are getting killed under my watch. What am I missing?”

“A day off?” You asked. “You need time, Feren. You need some bloody peace.” He chuckled to that, but the horror was still reflected in his eyes. “Come on, up, up.” You murmured, turning around and standing. He rolled off the bed, coming to your arms and melting into your touch.

“Mm. Bless you and your touch that makes me forget everything.” Feren mumbled, burying his head against your shoulder. 

“Oh, I can make you forget everything.”

“At this point, I can’t tell if that’s a threat or a promise.” He replied.

“Which one are you looking for?” You asked, teasing. You earned yourself another laugh as you gathered him in your arms, picking him up. It wasn’t an unusual sight for the people of Imladris to see you carrying Feren anywhere. At least he had managed to snatch your travel bag off the shelf before you left.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Someplace you can relax.” You replied, turning a corner and taking the steps down beneath the healing wards. The air only got more humid and thick the farther you went down.

“You reserved a private hot spring?” 

“I bought one.” You murmured, taking your key and unlocking the door, which mind you was a little difficult with Feren clinging to you. He let himself down and into the room, fingers tugging at his tunic as you locked the door behind you. You helped him out of the rest of his clothes and he sank into the hot spring with a groan of relief. Your legs landed on either side of him, the hem of your dress getting wet as you sat on the edge of the spring, feet in the water.

You untied the braids in his hair, setting aside the moonstone token, and began to work out the knots and tangles with a comb, gently loosening the debris that had become entangled until his hair was untangled and twig free. You tipped his head back for a moment to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you.” You whispered. The smile on his lips was worth the world to you. You stood, picking up the token and cleaning it on your dress before placing it within your bag, getting undressed yourself. The sweet scent of lilac and roses soon intertwined with each other as you sprinkled the dried flower buds into the water, soon slipping in yourself and taking a place at your husband’s side. Any other day, you might have been up for being playful and mischievous with him, but that day wasn’t today.

Instead you just kissed his cheek softly. “ _Meleth-nin_.” You whispered. “I’ll have your back, whatever you decide. Soldier or not. Captain or not. You will always have me.” 

“I’ve been a captain for centuries and a soldier even longer than that. What hope is there for me in any other path?” Feren asked.

“You doubt yourself too much.” You replied.

“Mmm.” His eyes fluttered open to look at you before he finally sighed, ducking beneath the water for a minute before resurfacing. “I want you out there with me. I know you’re not trained by our elven standards, but we could use an archer who knows what the hell they’re doing.” He finally admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N! This is all I’ve ever known and I’ve been in wars before Erebor. Why... why now? Why do I feel like I’m losing myself now?” He asked.

“Because your commander left thousands to die at Erebor! I never agreed with Thranduil’s decision to take your company and leave, not to mention the disrespect shown by leaving the dead on the battlefield mixed among their enemies. And you never agreed with that decision either, or you wouldn’t have stayed.” You replied. He grunted out a quiet reply. Thranduil may have been king, but Feren was no longer in the service of him, which had taken some time to get used to. 

“You’re not washed up, Feren. You’re not weak, and you’re not losing yourself, _meleth-nin_. You have a commander you can believe in now.” You murmured. It was true. Elrond had gone out into the patrol with him, and was no less the fierce warrior than the stories had depicted. It was an honor to fight alongside him.

“Perhaps you are right.” Feren finally replied, tipping his head back against the edge of the hot spring, spreading out and relaxing a little bit more. You eyed his neck slightly, tempted to kiss him and make him forget about it. “Yes, _meleth-nin_ , it  _ is _ an invitation.” You chuckled, pressing your mouth to his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered, smiling against him. “You wouldn’t dare...” His chuckles evolved into a whining moan as you kissed your way down to the hollow of his throat, tasting the sweat off his skin. He could not help but to pull you flush against him, hands pressed firmly to your hips.

“ _Meleth-nin_!” You were sure to leave a mark against his pale skin, the reddened flesh smarting in the wake of your mouth. “You will be the death of me.” Feren murmured.

“Oh? You were the one who put me here. You will just have to forgive me for making sure that you, and everyone else around you, knows exactly what they’re getting into.” You replied, looping your arms around the back of his neck. “And... at least you’ll die a happy ellon.” You pressed your forehead against his, kissing him sweetly. “Now wash up; I have plans for you.”

“Oh? I don’t think this is the best spot for...”

“Not  _ that _ !” You replied. “Osse, do you really think that this is the time for  _ that _ !?” You asked, flicking water in his face as you cleaned up yourself. “I love you, Feren, but if you wanted that, we should have never left the talan.” 

“I will always want you.” He remarked, cleaning the grit and dirt off himself.

“Flatterer.” You replied, patting the bed. “Down you go, on your stomach, and let me work out your mess of a back.”

“You know there are healers who do this type of work.” Feren murmured, laying down across the bed.

“Ei!” You marked his old scars with ointment and paid them attention before pouring lotion onto your hands and working on his back. “You really think I want anyone else touching my husband?” You watched his shoulders shake. “Find me amusing?”

“I find you possessive, _meleth-nin_.” He whispered.

“Good.” You replied, working out the knots in his neck, shoulders, and back until he was at least somewhat relaxed. He didn’t even flinch when you placed the water warmed stones along his back, being mindful of his scars. He had all but drifted back to sleep when he felt your fingers brush through his hair, rebraiding it gently. “I love you.” You murmured.

“ _Le melin_.” Feren whispered. You always knew how to take such good care of him and today was no exception.

“Get some rest, Feren.” You replied, getting dressed and curling up on the bed with him and your workbook. Eventually between the heat and the sound of your pencil scratching against the paper, he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hir-nin - My lord  
> Hiril - Lady  
> Mellon-nin - My friend  
> Meleth/meleth-nin - Love/My love

It was a little strange that he slept as much as he did, you thought. You had of course dressed him and carried him back to the talan and he never moved. You still had your gifts for him, hidden away amongst your weapons, put away because you thought that war was over. You rifled through the closet in the common area, your hand closing around your blackened longbow, the quiver of iron arrows beneath it. You pulled them both out, setting them aside and digging deeper into the mess. You found the items in question at the very bottom of the closet, buried beneath the trappings of your once trade. That would need to be sorted eventually, you thought.

There was one thing you had come to hate more than people underestimating you, and that was seeing Feren so upset. He was good at maintaining neutrality and not letting his expressions show, though some of that restraint was gone out of the service of Thranduil. You knelt, unfolding the dragon-hide mail, still as bright as the day you had made it. Thank Osse that dragon scale was damn near impenetrable. But most likely, the blade beneath it was probably your best work as an artist. It was modeled after Elven blades, light and airy, but the blade was made of black iron, the hilt of dragon-hide. It did not break or bend so easily, and could only be forged by the temperance of dwarven blacksmiths, built to withstand dragon fire. You gathered all items, slinging your quiver onto your back and strapping your bow down, taking the other two items and slipped out into the afternoon. 

You found yourself in the House of Elrond which was exactly where you wanted to be, although finding the aforementioned lord was never easy. 

“ _Hir-nin_ Erestor.” You caught the ellon moving down the hallway in your direction. “Do you know where Lord Elrond is?”

“I believe he’s attending to his warriors in the healing wards.” Erestor replied. “Is it urgent?”

“No.” You shook your head.

“Is there something I can assist with?” Erestor asked. You displayed the blade. “That is... impressive craftsmanship.”

“I need a sheath.”

“Indeed you do.” Erestor murmured. “It looks sharp.”

“It probably needs to be sharpened, but it’s black iron so I’ll do that by hand.” Erestor gestured for you to follow him.

“I would take it myself but I know you have a way you like things to be done.” You walked comfortably beside him. Erestor was a stickler, which is why you could count on him to include you in the process. “How is Feren?”

“Asleep.” You answered. “I’m worried about him.”

“I can send Lord Elrond to your talan after he is done in the healing wards, if you would prefer?” 

“No. Well...” 

“Lord Elrond briefed me that the patrol was not successful. I know Feren is a battle-hardened captain. I do not imagine it is easy for him.”

“No, I don’t think so either.” You set the blade down on the blacksmithing table, briefly explaining what you wanted and watched as they took measurements, only touching the blade once to make a more concise measurement out of a rough draft. 

“Lord Elrond is trained in matters of the mind. They are delicate and he cannot heal every patient he comes across, but perhaps he could put Feren’s mind at ease.” Erestor offered.

“I do not wish to hurt him.”

“Pride can be a captain’s downfall, _Hiril_ Y/N.” You took his meaning into consideration with a great degree of seriousness. 

“You, you can send Lord Elrond.”

“I will send him there when he is done. May I also recommend that you take your meals at your house? I can add an adjustment to the schedule and have something delivered.

“You’re a blessing, _mellon-nin_.” He only smiled.

“It is my job, but your thanks are appreciated. Sometimes that makes it a little easier.” He took in notice of the bow on your back. “I didn’t realize you were an archer.”

“Yes, I fought in the Battle of Erebor with Feren actually. It’s how we met.”

“That is not an Elvish make.” Erestor murmured. You withdrew your bow, and it was nearly as tall as you were. “A longbow. You’re a long range archer. You must have impeccable eyesight.”

“I was going to go to the training fields, but perhaps I should stay home.” You whispered. “He asked for my hand in battle, in the patrols. I was at his back in Erebor; I didn’t know who he was. We were just two warriors intertwined by fate.”

“I have heard the way he speaks of you.” Erestor replied. “He loves you. He loves you most ardently. I do not think he would leave Eryn Galen otherwise.” You picked up the sword, and Erestor made a note to send a whetstone, the finished sheath, and a target for practice with your dinner.

“I should go.” He placed a hand on your arm.

“I did not mean to worry you.”

“Your concerns are valid, Erestor, and I thank you for them.” You replied, making your way through Imladris and back to your talan, setting everything aside for now. He was still asleep and you actually woke him up, pulling him into your arms, wrapping your form around his frame.

“ _Meleth_.” Feren murmured. “ _Meleth_.”

“Enjoy your nap?” You asked softly. “You were out.” You kissed his cheek softly. “I am worried for you.” 

“Mmm.” He blinked up at you, resting his head against your chest.

“I love you, so much. So don’t you dare think about leaving me.” You chided quietly. That more than woke him up, his eyes focusing on yours. Valar, you were being serious! “I don’t know anything about Elvish medicine, so Erestor is sending Elrond. Maybe he can help you.”

“I don’t need...” 

“Feren, please. You’re hurting and I don’t know how to help you.” You cut him off. “I didn’t do it to hurt you.” He relented to the look of pleading he saw across your face.

“I know.” He finally replied. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, holding him tight, and you stayed that way even when nightfall came and Elrond stepped into your talan.

“Erestor sent me.” Elrond murmured. “Is everything alright?” You nudged Feren lightly.

“I’m... I’m having issues dealing with the grief. I feel empty, hollow, numb. Like I could sleep... for forever.” Elrond took a seat at the edge of the bed, listening. “And that’s all I want to do. I’ve failed; I haven’t felt like this since I was young, and I don’t remember how I dealt with it then. I’m scared, terrified.”

“Fear is normal.” Elrond replied. “And you are not the only one who suffers from it. But that loss, Feren, it wasn’t yours. It was mine. You may be a captain and a commander, but that patrol was my responsibility. I was the one who sent you out unprepared for what lay ahead. You need not blame yourself; you can put that burden on me. And you can hate me for it.”

“I... do not hate you, my lord.” Feren murmured, shocked. “It was...”

“Not your fault.” Elrond finished. “Your King may have held you to an impossibly high standard, but I will not do that here. Mourn, Feren; grieve the loss of your comrades. You aren’t perfect; neither am I. We’re all flawed creatures. It’s unfortunate that these things happen, but this life is evolving, yet again. Could I take the burdens of all my people I would, but I am only one. Our strength lies in our comrades, not in our own hands, but in the cohesiveness of our people as a unit. Trust.”

“The last commander I trusted...”

“Isn’t a commander.” Elrond said pointedly. “He’s a King.”

“He’s a warrior.” Feren argued.

“That may be true, but he is not a commander. When was the last time you saw him lead his own troops into battle without the aid of his Kingsguards? When last did you see him show responsibility to his troops? Did he put them to rest, show his own dead some respect?” Elrond touched on a sore point and Feren grabbed onto your hand. You squeezed lightly.

“No.” Feren murmured lowly.

“Then my point is made.” Elrond said softly.

“I am so angry.” Feren drew in a deep breath, his voice shaking. “And so hurt.”

“Both are normal, Feren. You went through a traumatic event. You weren’t given the time to mourn. I do not agree with the way Thranduil handles things, but he is also my King. You, however, you are not in service to him anymore. You’re allowed to disagree with him. And you should be allowed to speak your mind.”

“Or I’ll speak it for you.” You finally said something, angered by the way Feren was hurt. You wouldn’t have ever guessed that Erebor still bothered him like this. Certainly it stung, but you were already outcast. Feren didn’t know this rejection like you did. “You know, I had saying when I ran a shop back in Dale.”

“What’s that?” Elrond asked.

“Get out or get gutted.” Feren chuckled softly. He could see you saying something like that. “Because people never listened to anything else, but they will sure as hell listen to a threat. _Meleth-nin_ , I have your back.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You have my heart.” Feren replied.

“Aye, I’ve got that too.” You whispered. “Osse, Feren, I was worried about you!”

“Osse?” Elrond asked. “You call on one of the Maia?”

“Osse, Maia of the Sea. The god of my people.” You confirmed.

“You’re a siren.” Elrond realized. 

“Is there a problem?” Feren’s voice had dropped, cold.

“No. I’ve just... never seen one before. You look like a human.” Elrond remarked. “Truthfully I thought you were one. I’ve heard they can charm people; is that true?”

“I don’t like charming people.” You replied. “Because then their whole opinion of me changes, and they want to be friends... after I’ve already heard them call me every name in the book. At least your people are polite. Wish I could say the same of Eryn Galen.”

“Heh.” Feren snorted. “They got humiliation they asked for. No one else would have been so bold to call them out in front of the King.”

“I got my pleasure out of seeing you chase down the Sindar tailor for interrupting you.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Feren relaxed some.

“Don’t be afraid to talk to me, Feren. Ever. In the middle of council. In the middle of healing.”

“In the middle of the night?” Feren asked.

“When the nightmares are the worst? Especially not then.” Elrond replied.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“Not me. I’ll have to send a thank you to Erestor.”

“Yes, he had some things for you, including dinner. It’s in the common area. Did a hurricane tear through your talan?”

“Gah... no... I was looking for something in the closet.” You muttered.

“Did you find it?” Elrond asked.

“Yes, at the very bottom, buried underneath everything.” You nodded and then your eyes widened. “Well there goes the element of surprise. I have a gift for you, Feren. I was going to give it to you in Dale, but things got hectic and it literally got buried when we moved in here.” Elrond nodded to you both, stepping outside of the room and watching where he stepped. You finally unfolded yourself from your husband, scooping up an armful of things that definitely needed to be sorted and shoving them back in the closet. Elrond seemed amused.

“Erestor would have a field day with you. Do you need a tanning rack for those?”

“D... do you have one?”

“It usually comes standard in hunter talans, which this isn’t, but...”

“I know; you didn’t know anything about me.” You waved him off. “I’ll buy one.”

“You take care of Feren. I’ll send Erestor. He’ll know what to do.” Elrond replied. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You murmured, seeing him out. Luckily dinner was non-perishable-- dried meats, fruit, lembas, miruvor. Definitely Erestor’s work. You found the sheath acceptable, needed work but you had asked that it be built and you would handle the rest, which you fully intended to do.

“Mm.” Feren finally wandered into the community room. “What disaster?”

“It’s in the closet.” You replied. His eyes lighted on the sword and he glanced at you hesitantly. 

“Is this... for me?” Feren asked softly.

“I had it built before I even knew who you were. It’s... a conglomeration of things? Obviously it’s modeled for an Elvish blade, but it’s built by dwarves.”

“Is this black iron?” You nodded. “Where did you get this from?”

“Black iron is the trade of the Long Lake, far beneath the surface. It doesn’t rust. So it’s valuable to my people. But more importantly, it’s able to withstand impossible heats, which is why it has to be forged by dwarves. I had it made. Probably needs to be sharpened though, which I can do for you. I need to sharpen my knife anyway.”

“And this?” Feren touched the dragon-hide mail and you actually did blush.

“Dragon-scale, dragon-hide mail. Damn near impenetrable and fire resistant. That took me a long time to put together.”

“You made this? It’s based on...”

“Elven mail. Yes. I may have stolen some from Erebor. The rest I taught myself from a book.” You looked away. “I had a lot of time to myself after the war. Our numbers were already small, but we had joined to fight for the people of Dale. I don’t... know how many are left. We lost our sense of camaraderie.” You gave him a weak smile when he lifted your chin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I hadn’t even considered how it might affect you. I’m so sorry.” Feren murmured. You shrugged.

“It is what it is, _meleth_. I cannot change the past.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a chapter without any Elvish and it felt weird not having a box here.

Your brief time with Elrond had opened a side to Feren that you hadn’t seen before, and he confessed over dinner that he had tried to redirect his anger and hurt at what had happened in Erebor into his patrols, only to suffer for it when the tried and true method he had always used before didn’t work. You listened to him, and he realized it now more than ever, that you listened to him, and it hurt you that he was hurting but you weren’t afraid of it. Yes, the One was soulmates for elves, but you threw yourself to him in complete dedication, yet somehow you could be tempered and angry at the same time. It almost reminded him of Elrond, but you had things to say that he didn’t think would ever come from the elf-lord’s lips.

“How are you not afraid?” Feren finally asked.

“I worry for you.” You replied.

“But you’re not afraid.”

“I didn’t say that.” You reached across the table for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my lifetime. Wretched, horrible things. If you know anything about the history of sirens, you should know that my kind was and still is hunted by humans. Obviously the sirens of the Long Lake had an alliance with Esgaroth, but we didn’t come from there. It’s just dark enough for us to disappear beneath the surface. There’s a lot of lore behind sirens, and I’d say less than half of it is true? There’s a lot of misconceptions about sirens. My father got trussed to the bow of a corsair ship, Feren, protecting me and my mother, giving us just enough time to escape. We were on the surface for the first time in our lives, and my people were on the run. My mother died to heartbreak on that journey. She never made it to the Long Lake. I know now that we followed the Anduin River North, until we crossed the Forest River into Eryn Galen, eventually settling in the Long Lake. It... hurts. Tch.” You frowned, running your thumb over his knuckles. He looked horrified.

“And yet you have endured the torment from humans, from elves... how can you... mmm. Mmm...” You had straddled across his lap, kissing him gently, cupping his face in both your hands.

“How can I look to the future and still see light?” You asked. “I have you, Feren. And I know my heart is safe within your hands, and nothing else matters in a sense.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it does. But I don’t let it control my life. I can’t let it control my life.” You kissed him again, harder this time, taking his lower lip between your teeth, and relished in the feeling of his fingers digging into you. “You, Feren, are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You whispered, kissing along his jaw upwards.

“You tease.” He groaned, throwing his head back.

“Don’t tempt me.” You replied, taking advantage of his exposed neck, leaving little bruises everywhere you could.

“And if I like tempting you?” Feren asked. You only chuckled softly.

“Darling, don’t play with fire and expect not to get burned.” You growled, nipping at his jaw. For a moment, your lips lingered on the scar across his cheek and that made you settle down, appreciating just how undone he looked beneath your touch.

“You stopped.”

“Can I not admire my husband?” You asked. “Or are you...” You traced a line down from his chin to the hollow of his throat. “Desperate for more?” When his only answer was to roll his hips beneath you, you smiled deviously. “Cheeky.”

“You’re in my lap and you expect me not to want you?” Feren asked. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to play this game.” The richness of laughter echoed in the talan as you picked him up with ease, carrying him to your bedroom and kicking the door shut, the two of you tangled in each other’s embrace.

* * *

The months passed a little easier with the knowledge you both had. Feren, as much as he loathed to admit his own pride, found that talking to Elrond, and also Glorfindel, helped far more than he thought it would. Though, he was still angry at the events of Erebor, and you, more than anyone, helped him work through it. He was becoming quite skilled with a bow despite having never used one and there was something innately satisfying about hearing his arrows hit their marks.

You proved your prowess in the first patrol you went on. Elrond had invited you on Feren’s request and you worked among the unseasoned warriors. Your senses were keener than theirs, Elrond learned, and you withstood fighting without any weapons, using brute strength and dominating fear to rip through orc patrols. You stared death in the face and laughed at it, shielding the unseasoned fighters from any serious threat. And in the end, Feren still pressed his head against yours, blood-soaked and all, still kissed you despite the spray of orc blood across your face. If anything, that had to be true love.

“Why have I never seen your siren form?” Feren asked one day, the both of you free from patrols.

“You’ve never asked.” You replied quietly. “It’s not... it’s not exactly a beautiful form, Feren. That would be a mermaid. I’m a siren.”

“There’s a difference?” 

“A very big difference, yes. But I mean, if you want to see it, then you certainly can. I’m not going to stop you.” You remarked.

“Do you... not want me to see?” You let your eyes flick to him and for once, he saw the fear there, the trepidation there.

“You truss a mermaid to the bowsprit of a ship for luck; they die when the sun hits them. You truss a siren to the bowsprit of a ship as warning; they don’t die as easy. They die screeching in agony, and all who dare oppose you go weak in the knees for they know that wasn’t an easy battle.”

“I’m not like them.” You blinked, meeting his eyes as he cupped your chin softly. “You can trust me.”

“I know.” You breathed. “That doesn’t make it any easier. I dare not go out in open waters.”

“Imladris has some waterfall springs.” He suggested. “If you’d like to take a walk.” 

“I need time, Feren.” You replied quietly. He nodded to you, taking your hand in his own and saying nothing more of it.

* * *

You made the trip this year to visit Dale and pay your respects to the fallen warriors at Esgaroth and Erebor. You counted dwarfs among the people that came to the usual meeting place, Eryn Galen warriors who nodded to Feren in respect, but no Elvenking among them. Bard pressed a basket piled high with wildflower seeds that he’d been collecting ever since. You thanked him quietly, sowing them around the cairns. When your basket was empty and you had placed hands on all the cairns, you made your way to Esgaroth, standing on the ruined docks that were slowly rotting away into the water.

You cupped Feren’s cheek, pressing your head to his. “I will stay.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You slid the quiver and bow from your shoulders, undressing and placing your clothes neatly on the docks, sliding into the water. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Feren.” You replied quietly, ducking beneath the water and diving down deep. It didn’t come so naturally anymore, but you knew it wouldn’t and it was agony for a few minutes just trying to breathe before your body changed.

You found the others at the bottom and slipped quietly among them. “ _You came back.”_

“ _You thought I would stay away?”_

 _“This isn’t the time for this!”_ You reserved yourself, staying quiet, although you stayed close to the siren who had spoken first. You sat with them for hours in silence before they began to disperse.

“ _Y/N.”_ He stayed to your side as you finished paying your respects and prayers to Osse.

 _“Cain.”_ You nodded to him.

_“Where have you been? On the surface?”_

_“Yes.”_ You replied, finally unfolding yourself from your kneeling position. _“Cain, I’ll come back to pay respect to our warriors, but I found a home up there. I found love.”_

_“Love? Among humans? The people of Esgaroth were okay with us, but I don’t think...”_

_“He’s an elf.”_ That stopped the male siren in his tracks as he swam with you.

_“Does he know?”_

_“He knows... but I haven’t shown him yet. Are our people still scattered?”_

_“Yes. I run trade with Bard, who runs ore to the dwarves in the Mountain, but everything good we had with Esgaroth is gone.”_

_“Have you considered staying on the surface?”_ He glanced to you curiously.

_“This elf... what’s he like?”_

_“He’s on the docks, if you want to meet him. Just, you know.”_

_“Keep my teeth to myself?”_ Cain asked, chuckling. _“Don’t worry. I know how to control myself. Why? Are you worried you can’t?”_

_“I don’t interact with people in my siren form.”_

_“If you think it will bother you so much, why don’t you hunt?”_

_“I also got used to eating the food on the surface.”_ You replied. You both surfaced, noticing that it was night. Moonlight shone over the Long Lake, illuminating two figures on the docks.

“Bard.” Cain murmured, breezing through the water. You followed tentatively, hesitating.

“Cain.” Bard took a seat on the docks, minding the eroded wood. 

“Bard.” Cain replied, greeting him, placing his arms across the wooden post. He could feel Feren’s eyes on him. 

“I wouldn’t stare, Feren.” Bard warned.

“Let him look.” Cain purred. “Others would not be so gracious.”

“They are gone then?” Bard asked.

“Gone? Some of them. Some are hunting.” Cain replied. “Some should be hunting.”

 _“_ I heard that.”

“You are stalking your mate like he is prey. Go hunt, before you do something stupid.” Cain ordered.

“ Keep your teeth...”

“My teeth already marked the one I want!” Cain whirled, baring his fangs at you. “Have yours?!” Feren watched the water ripple in the distance as you disappeared beneath the surface. “You may want to keep your feet out of the water... Feren, was it?” Cain asked. Feren shifted uncomfortably, tucking his legs beneath him.

“Can you explain?” Feren asked.

“Sirens mark their mates in blood. Clearly she’s never bitten you if your blood is that appealing to her.” Cain replied, turning back to the docks.

“I mean,” Feren blushed.

“No. It doesn’t work that way. The surface form has different needs than the siren form.” Cain replied.

“And this, I mean me, I don’t bother you because?” 

“Because my mate is sitting in front of me and I have no interest in you.” Cain muttered. “And as long as I’m here, I hope no one else does either. Because if someone takes you for prey, there’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“So that part of the lore is true. Sirens drink blood to sustain themselves?”

“We eat fish mostly. You just happen to smell a little better.” Cain leaned a little to his right and sniffed. “A little richer. Eugh. Women.”

“Whatcha got, Cain?” A soft voice purred.

“Morganna. Nothing that belongs to you.” Cain murmured.

“Oh? He smells nice. I bet he tastes better than fish.”

“You’ll be tasting your own blood if you don’t stop.” Cain warned.

“Ohhh... who’s going to stop me? You?” She tilted her head to the side. “Cain, I knew you were into men, but two? Don’t be so selfish, and don’t play with your food.” The red-haired siren was at the docks before Feren could move, a song on her lips. Feren wasn’t particularly enchanted by it, but she could read the curiosity in his eyes. “How disappointing. Oh well, prey is always more fun when it fights back!” Within the blink of an eye, she had surged up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and Feren was pulled underwater.

“Morganna, no!” Cain ducked under the water in time to see her sink her teeth into Feren’s shoulder. Blood spilled into the water, the last of the air in Feren’s lungs leaving as he screamed out, drawing water into his lungs. Even from half a mile away, fish tucked in your mouth, you heard it and dropped your hunt. You could taste the blood in the water, Feren’s blood. The waters rippled with the speed alone of which you moved, finding Morganna at his shoulder and body slamming her against the posts of the dock, screaming at her wordlessly. Your arms came beneath Feren’s, lifting him from the waters.

“Feren!” Your voice breached his consciousness and he coughed, retching up water. The wound didn’t seem too deep, but it was no surface scratch either.

“Bard!” Cain surfaced, gesturing to the shore. Bard nodded, retreating across the docks to land. You tried to keep Feren’s shoulder above the water. Not so easy with one of your own kind on your tail and more coming, but you pushed through the nails ripping against your fins and the mouth that closed down on your tail, flicking her away. There was a satisfying thud as Morganna hit the dock and toppled over the other edge, slipping back into the water, which allowed you to get Feren into the shallower waters, nudging him farther inland. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hervenn-nin - My husband  
> Meleth/meleth-nin - Love/My love  
> Hir-nin - My Lord

Bard waded the knee deep waters and helped him the rest of the way to land. Despite the harpies who ventured further, Bard wasn’t afraid to kick them in the teeth and Cain wasn’t afraid to make his presence known, blocking the two retreating to shore from the masses. 

_“Blood!”_ It was an eerie cry that echoed in the night, but you held your position, fangs bared.

“You’ve got nerve. You show up late. You speak during silence. And you steal prey.” Morganna spat out the mouthful she’d gotten of your tail, blood running down her chin.

“At least I am not the one who poaches another’s lover while they are making hunt!” You snapped.

“He’s not marked. He’s fair game, surface-dweller!”

“I married him, claimed him; he is mine!” You growled, taking a swipe at her.

“I see no mark!”

“I love him! I will not do that to him!”

“Clearly you don’t love him enough!” Morganna made to move inland, dragging herself with her hands. 

“No!” You blocked her, tail winding back for an attack as her nails made contact across your face. You shoved her off, throwing her back into the deeper waters. Morganna resurfaced, tongue tasting the blood on her fingers. Your blood was thicker after all.

“As long as he is bleeding, he is fair game. As long as he is unmarked, his blood belongs to the masses! You cannot hold back all of us!” Your scowl turned into a wicked grin.

“Try me, Morganna.” You replied. “And you won’t like what you get.” She used her advantage of deeper water to strike at you again, but the others were not so bold when they saw you withdraw your knife. You let your tail recoil, essentially hip checking her, using the dock yet again, and she struck the supporting post with a sickening crack. The knife you threw made contact through her wrist and pinned her hand above her head. “Stay there and rot!” You hissed, turning to your surface form. You stumbled through the shallow waters, coming to your knees at Feren’s side. Bard draped his coat around you.

“ _Hervenn-nin_.” You whispered.

“He’s lost quite a bit of blood.” Bard murmured, keeping his hand pressed to the wound, though blood was still leaking through his fingers.

“You have to mark him.” Cain cast eyes over his shoulder. “Or they’re just going to keep coming, and he’ll die from the blood loss.”

“Cain, I...”

“I trust you.” Feren whispered. “I trust you, please.” You willed your body to turn out of the water, grimacing as pain blossomed throughout you. You searched for a little bit of purchase, nails ripping through fabric as you exposed his hip.

“I’m sorry, Feren. I should have never...”

“Bite me!” You sank your teeth deep into the exposed skin on his command, blood rushing into your mouth. Yes, he tasted as delicious as you thought he would, but one mouthful was all you could take, forcing yourself away with a gasp, blood running down your chin. You pressed your webbed hand to the wound at his shoulder, forcing it to heal. Your mark on him would not bleed; you had made sure to seal it on the surface, but it would still be excruciatingly painful until it healed and scarred over. You hated that your hand had been forced, and truth be told, using your healing powers drained you.

“There.” Cain scowled. “Now leave him alone. He belongs to someone.”

“Surface-dweller.” Morganna spat.

“Leech.” You hissed. She bristled at your comment, throwing the knife at you and you caught it, sheathing it in the belt around your waist. You cradled Feren in your arms. “Am I still as beautiful as the day you met me?” You were sure you were a sight, a sickly grey skinned form, though most of your form was onyx colored and finned, the white pattern that marked your family line on your underside, gills and sharp teeth, and old battle scars marring your body. And to your surprise, mostly that you were surprised he could still move, Feren actually leaned up, stealing a kiss from your lips.

“You’re always beautiful to me.” Feren whispered. Well... that... that was shocking.

“You should get some rest.” You replied quietly. “Bard, can you, can we...”

“Of course you can stay the night.” You slipped back into the water with Cain for a moment.

“Hm, he kissed you.” Cain remarked.

“Yes.” You hoisted yourself to the docks, drying off and returning to your surface form before putting your clothes on. “Did I do this wrong, Cain?”

“Everybody does it differently.” Cain shrugged, handing you your bow and quiver and you limped along after Bard, spending a night in Dale with Feren tucked in your arms.

* * *

Your return to Imladris was exhausting. You both were on horseback in your return to the Valley and when Elrond came to greet you.

“What happened?” Elrond asked. You threw him an exhausted look. 

“Just... no patrols. Not for a while.” You murmured, both of you limping to your talan and sinking into the bed. When no one saw either of you for days at a time, despite your return being known, Elrond ventured to your talan and found you both asleep. You looked horrible, angry red scars formed across your face and a marred chunk of flesh taken from your leg, warping the skin around it. What had happened? He voiced it quietly, and found that you apparently were not as asleep as he thought you were.

“I got into an altercation with one of my kind.” You murmured lowly. He noticed that no matter where your eyes followed him across the talan, you kept a hand on Feren.

“What about Feren?”

“‘M awake.” Feren replied. “Just trying not to move.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I asked for it. I asked for it, _meleth_. I know you did what was necessary to save my life.” Some part of you twitched dangerously when Elrond approached, asking if he could help. You nearly kneed him in the chest before tamping down the urge, knowing he wasn’t a threat.

“Sorry, I’m a little on edge right now. It’s going to take me some time, to uh... acclimate back to a surface form.”

“She’s beautiful, _hir-nin_.” Feren murmured. “Powerful. Lethal.”

“Feren, stop.” You buried your head against his chest, blushing. “As much pain as you are in because of me, you should not be flattering me as so.” He chuckled softly. “I nearly got you killed.”

“Eh, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Sirens are that dangerous?” Elrond asked. “How much of the lore is true?”

“How much do you know?” You rolled to your side with a grimace of pain.

“Blood-drinking, capable of many forms, will sing to lure sailors to their deaths, more dangerous in the water than out of it. Very few take a surface form and their powers are limited when they do.” Elrond listed off a few more misconceptions.

“Is there a book?”

“Of course.”

“Burn it.”

“Erestor would have my hide!” Elrond protested.

“But so much of it isn’t true. Tell him he can write a new one. I’ve lost almost all the friendships I’ve ever had with my kind, except for Cain. All over Feren, and I’ll do it again if I need to.” You whispered. “If I want to heal any faster, I’m going to need to make hunt. Know any good fishing spots around here?”

“There’s a few in the Valley, but the fords of the Bruinen have deeper waters.”

“Any closed water spots? Not exactly looking to run into fishermen here.”

“There’s some waterfall pools but hunting might be slim.”

“I’ll take it. I can hunt at the bottom if I need.” You murmured.

“I can take you there.” Elrond replied.

“I’d be obliged.” You wearily stood, nearly collapsing. “Oh, okay.” You needed to sit back down.

“Can you eat any human food at all?” Elrond asked, making sure you landed on the bed and not on the floor.

“No, I haven’t been able to stomach it.” You murmured. “I need live hunt.”

“Could you...?” Feren asked.

“No.” You cut him off. “You are not offering yourself to me as an alternative, and this surface form will not take to it well. I appreciate it, Feren, but that offer is not on the table.”

“You’re weak, _meleth_.”

“And out of the water too long maintaining that form, and I will die, Feren.” You replied. “Willing the change on land is difficult and must only be done when the source of water is nearby. But apparently, I’m going to need help to get there.”

“Who do you trust?” Elrond asked.

“Erestor. Erestor is the only other person.” 

“Then I will get Erestor and we will take you there.” Elrond murmured. “I trust you aren’t going anywhere?”

“No.” You shook your head. He left to cross the Valley, briefly explaining the situation to Erestor, bringing two horses to your talan. You hated having to rely on anyone else but you couldn’t even walk and so was settled in front of Elrond as he guided his horse to one of the waterfall pools, with Erestor and Feren in pursuit. Elrond dismounted, letting you slide into his arms and carried you the rest of the way. You sat down on the edge of the pool, feeling the spray of cold water against your skin, shivering. Feren took a seat beside you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I am here for you, _meleth-nin_.”

“Feel like going for a swim?” You teased.

“Do you want me to?”

“No. Not until I’ve hunted.” You replied, slipping into the water. A few moments later, your clothes landed beside him.

“Why exactly are we here?” Erestor asked. “I... didn’t come to see my friend swim... naked.” Feren snorted. You dove down to the bottom, grappling yourself beneath the waterfall and staying among the rocks until your change was completed, and you could make hunt a little easier. Elrond was right; the pools were sparse of fish, but you ate what you could, gathering clams, scallops, oysters, and even a live crab and surfacing.

“Ohhh.” Erestor ducked behind Elrond with a gasp. You laid your bounty out, taking your knife and shucking the shells open. You offered an oyster to Feren, teasing him.

“And if I politely say no thanks?” Feren eyed the still wiggling oyster in the shell with a little bit of trepidation.

“Your loss.” You replied, tipping it back. Erestor peeked out from behind Elrond.

“You’re a siren.” He squeaked.

“Want an oyster?” You offered the next one to him. He blushed, shaking his head.

“Ah, I’ve read that they are aphrodisiacs.” Erestor remarked. “Which may explain why you offered it to Feren first.” You chuckled softly, giving him a wolfish fanged grin. Indeed.

“You look a little better.” Elrond murmured, crouching to the edge of the pool. “Not that I would terribly know, but if good spirits is anything to go by, I would say that you made some sort of successful hunt.” You offered him the open shell and was surprised when he actually took it. “Though I haven’t had one since the first age.” And grimaced when it went down. “And it still tastes as unpleasant as I remember it. Humans say it's a delicacy raw. I don’t see the appeal personally.”

“At this point everything kind of tastes like fish, except for scallops.” You also offered him one of those.

“Why do you eat it?” Feren asked.

“It’s... polite?” Elrond replied. “She’s one of our people. We should make an effort to adjust to different customs.” You shucked another scallop, offering it to Feren, and he at least made an effort, chewing it and trying not to make a face when he finally swallowed it.

“That’s an adjustment.” Feren murmured, a little green.

“I’m sorry, _meleth_.” You chuckled. “You definitely did not need to eat it.” You pecked his cheek softly, sinking back into the water. You however finished off the lot you had brought up, with Elrond sneaking an occasional piece. “It doesn’t seem to bother you as much.” You retorted.

“You know what Peredhel means, yes?” Elrond asked.

“You? You’re half-elven? I would have never guessed.”

“Then we both have made assumptions about each other. Do you suppose you have regained your strength now?” 

“It will take time for the wounds to heal. I need to remain here for now. Especially,” You pressed your hand beneath Feren’s leggings to his hip and sank some of your strength into healing his hip. “Especially after that.”

“It would have healed just fine!”

“It hurts you to walk, Feren!” You retorted. “Were I a braver person, maybe I could have done it earlier, but I was scared and here I have no reason to mark you in such a manner. Your people would not understand and again, people truss up sirens.”

“You bit him.” Erestor realized.

“I had no choice.” You replied. “They were going to bleed him. Sirens don’t touch other siren’s mates. There can be blood feuds over mates, before they’re bitten, but that’s usually other siren mates. Morganna was going to kill him, and she was instigating for the others to attack and bleed him dry. So I bit him, marked him.” The words rolled off your lips in a purr and Feren shivered at the possessiveness. “It was difficult. He is appealing.”

“Are we?” Erestor asked.

“No.” You replied.

“Even in your siren form?” Erestor wondered.

“Feren is right in front of me. Why would I care about you?”

“So Cain wasn’t lying.” Feren mused. “Do all sirens differentiate by scent?”

“Scent? It has nothing to do with scent. I can’t smell anything. I never have. It’s the taste of your blood.” You let your fingers trace the scar on his cheek, and he could feel heat engulf him when he realized. That day on the battlefield... the cut across his cheek... the blood on his lips...

“Mmm...” He let his eyes meet yours, amused, and somewhat aroused. “Leave.” Feren ordered.

“I’m not sure that that’s a wise...” Erestor started, and you saw every bit of the captain of the Kingsguard in that moment, Feren’s head turning to the side as he glared at Erestor.

“I said leave.” Feren ordered again, and that time they both moved. You glanced to him as he leaned forward, pressing his head against yours.

“You’re in a mood.” You replied.

“Can I help that I want some privacy to kiss my wife?” Feren asked.

“You’re cheeky.” You murmured, placing your hands on the edge of the pool to lift yourself and meet his lips with your own, being careful not to break skin. You might have lost everyone you could ever call family among your own, with Cain being the exception, but the family you had found among humans, among elves was worth the price you had paid. You smiled against his lips. “I love you.” You whispered. “From the day on the battlefield to all eternity.”

“ _Le melithon anuir._ I will love you forever.” Feren breathed. Finally, you could be at peace in this life. Finally, you were content. What more would you ever need?


End file.
